


I Could Do Most Anything To You

by the_rogue_bitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Dominance, M/M, Sibling Incest, Submission, Wincest - Freeform, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-08
Updated: 2008-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When on earth did his little brother turn into such a kinky son of a bitch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Do Most Anything To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



> Written for dreamlittleyo using the prompt “I swore I’d never do this to you.” 
> 
> Breathplay is dangerous. Since this is a work of fiction, I didn’t put in the usual S/S/C stuff like a safeword. If you’re going to do this stuff in real life, do your research, set up a safeword, and play carefully.
> 
> The title comes from the Snow Patrol song “Somewhere, A Clock Is Ticking”.
> 
> ***

Dean decided that this was the last time he was ever going up against Sam in a game of chance. Especially when the game was for sexual favors. He thought he’d put enough distance between himself and his overuse of scissors, but apparently Sam had his number a little more firmly than Dean thought. 

Sam had been laying next to him in the moonlight pooling through the window, all lean and muscled, and mother-naked, and beautiful beyond the telling of it. He had said, “Let’s try something new.” 

Dean, never averse to variety, had replied, “Okay, what did you have in mind?” 

Sam listed off: fisting, breathplay, cutting, play piercing, real piercing, liquid latex, watersports, suspension, and by the time he got to the end of his list Dean was beginning to think of plain old rope bondage as being very vanilla.

When on earth did his younger brother become such a kinky son of a bitch? 

“Um,” Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it cool and experienced. “So, you’ve actually done these things?” 

“Some of them.” Sam replied, shifting in bed. Dean noticed a certain…interest from below at the sight of the sheet sliding down Sam’s hips. “Some…I’ve just wanted to try and haven’t had the opportunity. Some you should do with a person that you really trust.” 

Dean absorbed this. 

“And you…want to do these things with me?” Dean asked.

Sam surged off the bed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulling him down. He murmured in Dean’s ear, a rumble that hit him right in the chest and went straight to his dick, “I want to do _everything_ with you.” 

Well, hell, how could any man resist that? 

Sam kissed like he was trying to map Dean from the inside, gigantic hands cradling Dean’s skull, legs pretzeling around Dean’s. Sam pulled him close so that Dean could feel his dick all hard and hot alongside his own and Dean could feel his thoughts spiraling away out of his skull like someone had pulled a plug. 

Dean pulled away and put his lips close to Sam’s ear. “So tell me what you want, Sam,” his voice low and seductive. 

Sam shuddered up against him. “I don’t know what to choose,” he admitted, looking up at Dean. 

“We could flip a coin. Loser gets to do what the winner wants.” Dean suggested. Sam laughed, a movement Dean felt along his whole body. 

“We could do it the old-fashioned way,” Sam replied. 

“You’re on.” Dean rolled off Sam and lay on his side. 

“One-two-three,” he counted off, and made a fist. Sam’s flat hand covered it. 

“Paper covers rock,” Sam looked pleased with himself.

“Two out of three?” Dean countered. 

They counted off again and Dean chose scissors, which Sam broke with his rock. 

“Aw, Dean…you just can’t stay away from scissors, can you?” Sam looked disingenuously sorrowful.

“Dammit!” Dean swore. “So what do you want, Sammy? You want me to tie you up and spank you? Pee on you? Stick you with needles?” 

“Breathplay.”

“Seriously?” Dean tried to pull away, to look at Sam, but Sam’s octopus arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a kiss so scorching that Dean couldn’t think for a second. Sam’s hands stroked down Dean’s back, cupped his ass, fingertips tickling in the cleft there. Sam rolled his hips, holding Dean against the friction, and Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, stupidly delirious at all the sensation. 

Dean knew this was Sam’s way of winning the argument -- by getting Dean so turned on he’d do just about anything Sam wanted. He _knew_ this and he didn’t care. Because he _would_ do whatever Sam wanted, if Sam did the asking.

He slid a hand up Sam’s side, feeling the ribs flex as Sam breathed. He looked into Sam’s face, at the blissful openness of it, and knew he couldn’t refuse. 

“How do you want me to do it?” Dean pressed himself down onto Sam’s chest, restricting the expansion of his lungs. “You want it like this, Sam?” 

Sam’s head fell back onto the pillow, his mouth slack. “Ohgod, Dean,” he gasped. His hands held Dean’s shoulders loosely. His dick leaked precome continuously between them. Dean felt hot all over, powerful and tender, holding the key to his brother’s pleasure in his hands like this. 

“Or like this?” Dean kissed Sam, pinching his nose shut. The moan that traveled through his mouth rattled his brain, and Sam arched up hard against him, nearly bucking him off. Dean chuckled as he let go. He sat on Sam’s thighs. “Maybe not.” 

Sam fumbled for Dean’s hand, sliding it up against his throat. Then he did the same with Dean’s other hand. He held them there and stared into Dean’s eyes. 

“Really? This is what you want?” Dean wanted to make sure. 

“Please, Dean, I want you to,” Sam said quietly, eyes soft and pupils blown, moving against Dean restlessly. 

Dean slid his thumbs up the column of Sam’s throat, tracing his jawbone, until they met at his chin, tipping his head up. “I swore I’d never do this to you, never do anything to hurt you,” Dean said. 

“This isn’t hurting me. I trust you. Please, Dean, please.” Sam tipped his head back even further, exposing the pale length of his throat and Dean suddenly understood why the hell supernatural entities were always strangling this guy. Who could resist getting their hands, corporeal or otherwise, on such appealing real estate?

Dean slid his hands back down, pressing his thumbs against the arteries and feeling them pulse. He bore down lightly, hearing Sam gasp out, “Yes, please, yes.” 

Dean felt Sam slide a hand between them and enclose both their dicks in his grasp, a feat he was more than able to accomplish with his big hands. He started jacking them frantically as Dean forced his thumbs deeper against Sam’s skin. 

Jesus Christ, this was so wrong, but Sam was so needy and pliant under him that Dean couldn’t find it in himself to worry about how it looked. It _felt_ incredible, and given that he was fucking his brother, _wrong_ got left by the highway several states back. 

“It’s okay, Sammy, I gotcha,” Dean murmured, watching Sam’s face redden and his eyes drift closed. Things were getting hazy for Dean, too, being jerked so fast by Sam, whose movements were becoming arrhythmic, a sure sign he was close to coming. 

“Come on, let go, nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Dean urged, and Sam arched and flailed, hand flying off their dicks, shooting all the way up to his neck and painting Dean’s fingers with hot come. Then he flopped onto the bed, absolutely limp.

Dean let go of Sam’s throat at once, and Sam took a gigantic shuddery breath. Dean scooped up some of the come and wrapped his hand around his dick and in a few sharp strokes was adding his own contribution to Sam’s paintjob. He leaned over Sam on one hand, breathing hard and shivering, staring into his face. 

Sam’s eyes finally opened and he gave Dean the most satisfied, fucked out smile he’d ever seen. Dean’s eyes moved to the reddening marks on Sam’s throat, and Sam touched them gently with his fingertips. 

“You okay?” Dean asked. 

“That…was incredible,” Sam replied. “Thank you.” 

Dean collapsed next to Sam, sweat cooling on his skin. “Yeah, well, you owe me. I had to finish myself off after you went under.” 

Sam rolled onto his side, facing Dean. 

“Anything you want.” he said. “Everything.” 

“Next time, I get to pick.” Dean said. 

“Of course,” Sam replied. 

“Even if it’s vanilla.” Dean insisted. 

“I’ll like it anyway, Dean.” 

“You’re so fucking easy, Sam. You should be embarrassed.” Dean’s yawn cracked the statement in two.

“Pot, kettle.” Sam smiled. Dean shrugged, grinning. He got up and went into the bathroom where he wet down a washcloth with warm water and brought it back. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as Dean started wiping him down.

“Dude, you just got strangled _and_ came. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep, and I don’t want to roll into the wet spot.” Dean finished by gently tweaking Sam’s limp dick. Sam squeaked and glared at his brother. Dean slung the washcloth back into the bathroom and crawled back into bed next to Sam. 

And if Dean cuddled close to his brother and mumbled, “Love you, Sammy,” there was only Sam to hear him. Sam kissed the side of his head and replied, “I know, Dean,” as they fell asleep.


End file.
